


My Mistress with a Monster is in Love

by strayycatss



Category: Anne with an E (TV)
Genre: Aged-Up Character(s), Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Anne loves them both dearly, Established Relationship, F/M, Fluff and Humor, Mentions of Blood and Vomit, Mild Smut, Pet fic, This is basically an 'enemies to friends' fic but it's between Gilbert and Anne's cat
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-15
Updated: 2020-11-15
Packaged: 2021-03-09 21:22:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,699
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27573025
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/strayycatss/pseuds/strayycatss
Summary: Gilbert Blythe was not the jealous type. He understood that dating someone did not equal possession, and that as long as a relationship was built on trust and respect, then there was nothing to worry about. He didn’t expect this to change when he finally made the transition from Anne’s rival, to longtime friend, to serious boyfriend, but he also didn’t think he’d have to share her affections with another man.Specifically, a three-month-old stray cat that Anne rescued after finding it living under the dumpster behind her building.
Relationships: Gilbert Blythe/Anne Shirley
Comments: 14
Kudos: 173





	My Mistress with a Monster is in Love

**Author's Note:**

> Title comes from Puck's monologue in Shakespeare's 'A Midsummer Night's Dream'

Gilbert Blythe was not the jealous type. He understood that dating someone did not equal possession, and that as long as a relationship had a strong foundation built on trust and respect, then there was nothing to worry about. He didn’t expect this to change when he finally, _finally_ made the transition from Anne’s rival, to longtime friend, to serious boyfriend, but he also didn’t think he’d have to share her affections with another man. 

Specifically, a three-month-old stray cat that Anne rescued after finding it living under the dumpster behind her building. Anne doted on the thing, fussing over it and showering it with every bit of affection it would allow. While Gilbert was amused by the situation at first, ever enamored by the compassion Anne had in her heart for all creatures, it took hearing her refer to the mangy ball of fur as “the love of her life” to make a rotten feeling wash over him.

Shit, he was jealous of a cat. 

It didn’t help that the cat was _not_ a Gilbert Blythe fan. He wasn’t really sure why, considering that he liked most animals okay, and they didn’t seem to mind him either. He’d had a couple of barn cats growing up, and Mary’s cat insisted on sleeping in his room whenever he was home for the holidays. But when Anne first introduced him to her new companion, the cat hissed and swatted so aggressively at Gilbert’s outstretched hand that it startled him. He immediately recoiled and nervously looked to Anne for help, but she merely scooped the kitten up and cradled him like a baby to her chest.

“Oh, my sweet boy, I _knew_ we were kindred spirits,” She cooed, nuzzling their faces together. “I didn’t like him when we first met, either!” 

Gilbert rolled his eyes, deciding to try his luck again and peer over Anne’s shoulder. He gently clicked his tongue in an attempt to get the kitten’s attention, but it backfired immediately; the cat hissed so loudly that even Anne jumped. 

“He’s got a big mouth for a little guy,” Gilbert grumbled, scooting away to put some distance between them. 

“So did ninth-grade-Gilbert,” Anne snorted, not seeming too bothered by the interaction. She carefully placed the kitten on the floor and threw a toy for him to chase, keeping him preoccupied long enough so she could crawl to where Gilbert sat with his arms self-consciously crossed and plant a slow, sweet kiss to his jaw. He relaxed immediately, locking his arms around her waist in an attempt to keep her from getting up and redirecting whatever affection she was feeling back towards his new nemesis. He felt only a little childish for it.

“Sorry I didn’t make a good impression on your cat, Anne-girl,” Gilbert murmured into her hair.

“Fiddlesticks, he’ll come around,” Anne said with another reassuring kiss. “After all, I did.” 

It took Anne a surprisingly long time to decide on a name for the cat, agonizing over all of her options before settling on calling him Puck. Her reasoning was that he was a clever, impish little sprite with a penchant for naughty behavior. Gilbert found it appropriate, considering the cat frequently knocked things off Anne’s bookshelf and, on more than one occasion, stole ingredients from the counter when they cooked dinner. 

“Does that make you Titania, Queen of the Fairies?” Gilbert teased, receiving an elbow to his ribs. Although he wouldn’t say it out loud, he also supposed that made him Bottom, because Puck was turning him into an ass. 

He tried bringing Puck toys and little treats every time he went over, and though his efforts amused Anne, they did little to win over the cat. The harder Gilbert tried, the less interested Puck seemed in warming up to him. In return, Gilbert was thoroughly unimpressed with Anne’s new pet. Sure, he was a cute cat and he was affectionate towards Anne, but he was still a shrewd little beast towards others. Or, at least that’s what Gilbert thought until Diana and Jerry joined them for a movie night, and he had to watch with barely-concealed irritation as the cat lovingly oscillated back and forth between the newcomers all night. 

“Oh Anne, where on earth did you find such a sweetheart?” Diana crooned as she stroked Puck’s ears. He was curled up on Jerry’s lap, purring up a storm and sweetly kneading his tiny paws against the fabric of Jerry’s pants.

“I would die for this cat,” Jerry solemnly vowed. “Puck, I would die for you.” 

Gilbert excused himself to get another drink, not caring to watch the other three humans in the room continue to fawn over the annoying creature. The cat looked directly at him as he got up, eyes boring into his as if to say _Yeah, asshole. It’s just you._

At least Puck stopped hissing at him after the first couple weeks of their acquaintance. Gilbert considered it a major victory, unwilling to admit just how much it stressed him out to have Anne’s pet hate him so much. Anne did not seem bothered by their dynamic, and as with most things in his life since he’d met her, Gilbert decided to follow her lead. She easily had the biggest heart out of anyone he knew, so if he and the cat got to share the same privilege of being loved by her, then he would happily coexist with the tiny monster for as long as Anne wanted him around (him being Gilbert. No way would she give up the cat). Besides, even with the addition of Puck, nothing else really changed about their relationship. 

Well, except for a few things. 

Getting to fall asleep and wake up in the same bed as Anne was something that Gilbert had only dreamt of for years, and now eagerly looked forward to most days of the week. Going to Anne’s to unwind after a long day of clinicals and holding her in his arms as they both drifted off was without a doubt one of his favorite things in the world. He loved the way he had a side of the bed. He loved helping her fluff the pillows and change the sheets. He loved how she regularly curled so tightly into him that they often woke up crowded together towards the edge of the mattress. Lately, however, it seemed like Anne’s crowding was less out of a desire to cuddle and more out of necessity to accommodate Puck. 

Gilbert couldn’t figure out how something so small could take up so much room. When the cat wasn’t stretched out along Anne’s side, he was sleeping smack in the middle of the bed, forcing Gilbert and Anne to sleep apart. Anne always claimed he was too cute to move, and Gilbert would stare at the ceiling in defeat.

Then one time, about a month after Puck’s arrival, Anne and Gilbert were having sex on her couch. It was one of those sessions that made Gilbert extra glad she didn’t have a roommate; they could do this on any surface, any time of the day, and be as loud as they pleased without fear of interruption. Normally when they had sex, Gilbert’s attention was fully absorbed by Anne, too laser-focused on her and the sensations created between them to be distracted by anything else. This time, however, he had her beneath him, marveling at how easily they rocked together and savoring the way Anne’s hands clutched at him, when his peripheral betrayed him.

“Anne…” 

“Fuck, Gil, honey, I’m _so close,_ ” Anne gasped, eyes falling shut.

“Anne…”

“ _Yes_ , keep saying my name—” 

“Anne,” Gilbert tried saying more firmly this time, hips slowing as he struggled to keep his rhythm. “Anne, the cat.”

“What?” Anne asked, one eye cracking open to look up at him as he stopped moving altogether. 

“The cat, he’s—he’s staring at us.” 

Anne lifted her head to see that Puck was indeed staring at them, perched hardly a foot away on the ottoman. 

“It’s fine, just ignore him,” she said, but then the cat turned its gaze exclusively to Gilbert, who suddenly felt extremely exposed.

“I don’t think I can,” he admitted. “It’s like… he knows what we’re doing.”

Anne huffed in annoyance and reached down to the carpet, hand fumbling around until she found one of his many cat toys and blindly threw it somewhere away from them. 

“That’ll distract him,” she breathed, heels digging into Gilbert’s backside in an impatient attempt to get him to start moving again. He happily obliged, picking the pace right back up and burying his face into Anne’s freckled shoulder. 

Barely a minute passed before Gilbert felt a shadow pass over them, and he looked up with dread to see the cat now staring down at him from the arm of the couch. Puck dropped the toy next to Anne’s head, which finally distracted her enough to make her roll out from under Gilbert, hoist the cat to her bedroom, and shut him inside. Gilbert couldn’t help but feel more than a little smug at the removal. 

“There,” Anne huffed, stomping back to the couch and pushing on Gilbert’s shoulder so he’d sit back against the cushions. She settled down astride him with a roll of her hips and kissed him hard. “No more distractions.”

Gilbert was loving the change in position, the cat quickly forgotten as his brain turned to a delightful mush at the feeling of his girlfriend on top of him. He had just grabbed her hips to help her motions when the meowing started. Puck’s indignant cries were muffled by the door at first, but they grew louder and louder until they became pathetic wails. It was Anne’s turn to lose her concentration.

“He’s fine, ignore him,” Gilbert echoed her earlier words, only slightly embarrassed by how desperate he sounded. 

“But Gil, he sounds so sad!” She protested. Gilbert started thrusting up in earnest in an attempt to convince her to keep going, and it _almost_ worked, but her eyes snapped back open when Puck let out a cry startlingly similar to that of a human baby. Anne immediately slid off of Gilbert and threw on her shirt to go rescue the distraught kitten. 

Gilbert struggled to catch his breath as his brain recalibrated, his panting mixed with the sound of Anne’s comforting coos drifting from the other room. He mechanically turned and pressed his face into one of the throw pillows, not sure if he wanted to scream into it or suffocate himself with it. He settled on laughing, because the fact that the cat, the _utter bastard_ cat, was now cockblocking him was objectively hilarious.

Anne reentered the room with an apologetic look on her face but was soon laughing with him. He would never, ever hold something that dumb against her, and he knew that though he would never ask her to, she would make it up to him later. After all, her fun was interrupted too.

He shot her a fond smile as they both put back on their underwear and discussed dinner plans for the evening. If Gilbert pushed for takeout under the guise of craving some sushi, when really, he wanted to taunt the cat by eating raw fish in front of it, then that was between him and the cat. 

As they approached nearly two months of animosity, Gilbert decided to turn to something he had always excelled at: research. Now, he’d cleared his browsing history before for some pretty ridiculous reasons, but he considered looking up why a cat wouldn’t like him to be high on the list. After Googling things like ‘ _aggressive behavior in cats’_ and _‘temperament of teenage cat’_ , his searches got a bit more desperate, turning into questions like _‘girlfriend’s cat hates me?’_ , _‘why do cats not like certain people?’_ , and finally, _‘how to make cat like you’_. 

After what he considered to be an embarrassing amount of time spent researching, he gathered that Puck’s behavior either stemmed from Gilbert coming on too strong when they first met, or the cat simply didn’t like how much attention Gilbert received from Anne. Considering how Gilbert had been giving the cat plenty of space recently and it had only gotten a little better, he figured it must be the latter. Since he was definitely _not_ going to try and stop his girlfriend from giving him attention, he figured he’d just have to put up with the cat’s aversion to him indefinitely. 

He was texting Bash one morning when he decided to let go of his pride and ask his brother about his own experience with women and cats. 

_Gilbert:_ hey, did Mary’s cat like you at first? 

_Bash:_ no, Coco didn’t like me

 _Bash:_ [Attachment: 1 Image]

Gilbert’s momentary relief vanished as he scowled at the picture of a younger Bash posing with Mary’s calico draped around his shoulders like a scarf.

_Bash:_ she LOVED me

 _Bash:_ why

 _Bash:_ does anne’s cat not like you 

_Bash:_ blythe don’t tell me ur beefing with a cat

 _Gilbert:_ [Read 11:23 AM]

The first real sign of progress came when Gilbert stayed at Anne’s for a few days after his wisdom teeth removal. She insisted that he’d be more comfortable there instead of in the crowded apartment he shared with other med students, and this way she could keep an eye on him as he recovered. Gilbert was very much on board until she helped him through the front door and he spotted the cat coming towards them.

“Wait… you can’t leave me here with him,” He slurred, cheeks already beginning to swell.

“Who, Puck?” Anne asked, gently depositing him in a chair so she could grab some ice packs from the freezer. 

“He hates me so much… it’s not safe for me here.” 

Anne snorted and said, “Honey, I’m not leaving until I go to work in the morning. I’ll make sure the mean ol’ kitten doesn’t do anything until then.”

“God, you’re so good to me Anne, you make me feel so safe and—wait, how did we get to your apartment?” 

He was, of course, high as hell and wouldn’t remember any of this, but Anne was absolutely tickled by the change in her typically composed boyfriend’s behavior. She got him situated in her bed and made sure he was comfortable, politely declining his cotton-ball kisses but enjoying the way he was shamelessly flirting with her. 

“You look extra beautiful today. Have I ever told you how much I love your hair?” Gilbert asked, reaching up to twirl a lock between his fingers. 

“In so many ways,” Anne said with a smirk, noticing how his eyelids were growing heavier by the minute. “And I look extra beautiful because you’re currently zonked out on drugs.”

“Nooo, no, you’re beautiful all the time. Inside and out... I can’t believe you agreed to date me… like holy shit, you’re my girlfriend... Holy shit, do _other_ people know you’re my girlfriend? Where’s my phone, I need to text so many people—” 

“ _Gilbert_ , let’s try and get some rest, okay?” Anne soothed with a laugh. She almost considered filming him like this, but didn’t think he’d appreciate having the lingering effects of anesthesia caught on camera. Instead, she readjusted his ice packs and laid down next to him, stroking his hair until he fell asleep.

Puck jumped onto the bed not long after that, purring loudly as Anne scratched his head with her free hand. She looked deeply into the yellow eyes of her tiniest kindred spirit and said very seriously, “My dearest Puck, be nice to him, okay? Take good care of him while I’m at work.” 

It seemed the cat understood her and took her words to heart, because Anne got home from teaching the next day to find the apartment suspiciously quiet. She tip-toed to the bedroom, not sure what to expect, only to absolutely _melt_ at the sight of Gilbert napping peacefully with Puck curled up against his side. The cat blinked lazily at her in greeting before burying his face back into the crook of Gilbert’s elbow, perfectly content with where he was (Anne had to agree from experience that it was a good spot). While she may not have filmed him yesterday, she couldn’t resist snapping a photo of this for safekeeping. 

Gilbert was none the wiser to the specifics of this development, but he did notice that the cat wasn’t totally avoiding him anymore. It had been a week since he recovered, and from the way his work had piled up, he was rendered unable to visit Anne’s for a few days. The night he finally went back over, he was shocked when the cat brushed itself against his legs in greeting. 

“I think someone missed you,” Anne said slyly, wanting to greet him as well but not wanting to interrupt the moment between her boys.

“Oh yeah? I hope it was you,” Gilbert flirted back, trying to act as nonchalant as possible about Puck’s unexpected display of affection.

Puck continued to greet Gilbert like this every time he came over, and eventually, he allowed the man to pet him too. It was usually pretty brief as the cat was _very clear_ in letting Gilbert know when enough was enough, but it was such a far cry from the hissing, spitting kitten that Gilbert first met that it gave him some hope. 

They were now coexisting so peacefully that Anne felt confident leaving Puck in Gilbert’s care for the weekend while she visited Green Gables. She had initially wanted to take Puck with her and show him all of the places on the farm she thought a cat might love, but Gilbert gently reasoned that the new environment would probably cause the cat (and Marilla) some unnecessary stress. Gilbert himself wished he could head back to Avonlea with her but was still buried under his coursework and couldn’t afford the time away. He figured that a quiet weekend cooped up in Anne’s apartment, with his only responsibilities being to feed the cat three times a day and occasionally change the litter box, would be free enough of distraction to get some ample studying done.

Puck had meowed sadly at the door for a while after Anne left, but after an hour he quieted down enough for Gilbert to take off his noise-cancelling headphones (should he feel like a jerk for that? He couldn’t decide). A few hours and a bowl of cat food later, the apartment was near-silent as Gilbert became fully absorbed in the medical journal he was reading. He was so engrossed that he didn’t notice Puck jump on the couch next to him until the cat was already crawling into his lap. 

“Um, hello?” Gilbert asked in quiet surprise. He sat completely still as the cat circled around before tightly bundling itself up on his thighs. 

Well, this was new. 

He was almost afraid to breathe out of fear of scaring the cat off. Puck never sat on his lap; he still hardly even let Gilbert touch him. But here he was, voluntarily pressed up against him and sleeping soundly. This felt monumental. 

Gilbert realized he probably missed Anne.

Feeling a pang of sympathy, he couldn’t help but tentatively stroke the cat before whipping out his phone to take a selfie.

_Gilbert:_ [Attachment: 1 Image]

 _Gilbert:_ we miss you already.

 _Anne:_ he’s sitting on your lap!!!!!!!!!

 _Anne:_ gosh I’m so in love

 _Gilbert:_ I love you too

 _Anne:_ I’m talking to Puck

 _Gilbert:_ WOOOOOW OKAY SHIRLEY

Puck stayed on his lap like that well into the night, and Gilbert got a significant amount of reading done (even if maneuvering his books around the cat was a little awkward). He figured this might be a one-time thing, so he was happy to let the animal nap on him for as long as it pleased. 

In hindsight, he probably should have been alerted by the quick, shallow breaths that Puck was inhaling, but sleep was tugging at his own eyes, and since he was not entirely sure how to get up and move the cat without setting them back to square one, Gilbert passed out on the couch.

Early the next morning, before the sun even rose, he was woken up by the sounds of Puck retching. Gilbert slowly came to and registered that he had a pile of vomit in his lap; not only that, there were several other small piles on the living room carpet. Gilbert got up in a panic and stepped around the messes in search of the cat, and found him throwing up on the tile floor of Anne’s kitchen. 

After emptying what was left in his stomach, which at this point looked like just a mixture of water and stomach acid, Puck peered sullenly up at Gilbert. He had tracks of discharge running from his eyes down the sides of his nose, and he was breathing heavily around the spittle trapped in the fur of his chin. To say he looked miserable was an understatement. 

“Aw, buddy, what happened?” Gilbert asked as if the cat could answer, kneeling down to get a better look at him. He reached out and cautiously stroked Puck’s back, with one hand first, then two, and then cupped his small face as he whispered, “Nice kitty, please don’t bite me, please don’t bite me—”

In one quick motion, he stuck his thumbs under Puck’s lips to peer at his gums. The cat instantly recoiled and ran out of the room, but Gilbert got a good enough look to see that his gums looked healthy. That was a relief, and hopefully meant that he just needed to get something out of his system. With that hypothesis in mind, Gilbert decided that he would monitor the cat for any changes, and if he didn’t get better soon, he’d take him to the vet.

His first order of business was to strip off his pants and toss them in the wash. His second order of business was to move the cat litter, cat bed, water bowl, and a blanket to the bathroom. Pleased with this setup, he armored himself with some oven mitts and a thick hoodie that Anne “borrowed” from him before setting off to hunt for the sick cat. 

After a short search, he found him hiding under Anne’s bed. Fully aware that he was definitely about to undo all of their progress towards friendliness, Gilbert pulled the cat out and hauled him over to the bathroom.

“ _I’msorryI’msorryI’msorry_!” Gilbert repeated as Puck hissed and scratched at his manhandling. He set him down on the bathroom floor and quickly retreated, shutting the door behind him before the cat could bolt. He felt a little bad about putting Puck in quarantine, but this way he could keep him in one place for easy observation. Also, vomit was way easier to clean off of bathroom tile than carpeted flooring. 

Gilbert then set about cleaning up the messes on the floor, having learned a lot about wiping up puke and other mysterious stains after living with Delphine for the first few years of her life (this education was furthered after rooming with Moody in undergrad). Once the apartment was clean and he did a final sweep for any puddles he may have missed, Gilbert dropped tiredly into the armchair and texted Anne to let her know what was up.

She called him immediately, which he found funny considering it was barely past 6 a.m., but the worry in her voice kept him from teasing her. Instead, he reassured her that he was keeping a close watch over her beloved pet and that he would regularly send her updates. Anne gave him the name of Puck’s vet just in case and Gilbert promised to take him there if things didn’t get better, or, Heaven forbid, got worse. 

He ended up spending the day in the bathroom with Puck. It wasn’t the most comfortable place to study, but his nest of towels and pillows in the bathtub served its purpose, allowing him to keep one eye on his text and the other on the cat. There was no more vomiting until Gilbert tried giving Puck a small amount of soft food for lunch; it ended up making a reappearance less than ten minutes later behind the toilet. Gilbert felt horribly guilty as he wiped it up, but at least the cat was drinking plenty of water and managed to keep that down. 

Although Puck had only vomited once at lunch, Gilbert still fretted with anxiety. His studying quickly turned into research about cat nausea and sickness, and by evening he had learned a significant amount about all kinds of ailments from which a cat could suffer. He knew what symptoms to keep an eye out for in their current situation, and mentally filed away plenty of others for if Puck got sick again in the future. Gilbert would never forgive himself if something happened to Anne’s cat while in his care, even though his worry for the animal now extended far beyond it just being his girlfriend’s pet. 

“Look at us, who would’ve thought. Not me,” Gilbert joked as the cat joined him in the bathtub nest and made itself comfortable on his stomach. 

Puck had made peace with him for the lockdown and now craved comfort while he rode out his sickness. He was still lethargic, but the vomiting had ceased and the worst of it seemed to be behind them. Regardless of that, Gilbert still resolved that it wouldn’t hurt to take him to the vet first thing in the morning. Anne felt horrible about the imposition and offered to rush home and take Puck herself, but Gilbert assured her he was more than willing to do it and to please not cut her trip short.

It seemed like Puck couldn’t wait until morning, though, because in the middle of the night he started vomiting again and hid in his litter box. Gilbert stumbled to flip on the bathroom light, groggy and squinting as he grabbed for the paper towels. He located the pile under the sink, and as he leaned in to get a better look, his eyes instantly widened.

There was some blood in the bile. 

Within minutes, Gilbert was dressed and heading out of the apartment with the cat carrier in tow. He was beyond thankful to see that the vet Anne recommended had emergency hours, so he loaded Puck into the backseat of his car and drove as carefully as he could in his frazzled state. 

Gilbert recounted the events of the past 24 hours to the veterinarian, who was amused at the terminology the young man used and the way he provided his own theories. She was surprised when Gilbert handed over two ziplock bags, one containing a sample of Puck’s stool and the other containing the paper towel he used to scoop up the bloody bile. 

“You said you’re a student?” 

“Yeah, I’m in med school.” 

“Makes sense.” 

After a couple of nerve-wracking hours of tests, x-rays, and blood being drawn, Gilbert was informed that so far, all results looked normal and that the thing ailing the cat was most likely… a very persistent hairball. 

“That happens sometimes, especially in teenage cats like this,” The vet explained, trying not to laugh at the expression on Gilbert’s face. “An amount of blood that small isn’t abnormal for an animal who is still throwing up despite having an empty stomach. It’s still very alarming when you aren’t expecting it, so it’s good that you brought him in when you did.”

Gilbert left the clinic with a few cans of gastrointestinal cat food, a rather hefty bill, and an exhausted Puck. He was exhausted himself and drove home in silence, shielding his eyes from the rising sun. 

Anne found them passed out in the bathroom later that morning. She had fretted all night, only to be driven into a panic when she woke up and saw that Gilbert sent a text at 4 a.m. about going to the emergency vet. Matthew and Marilla were more than forgiving of her need to head home straight away, helping her to pack the car and sending her off with a thermos of chamomile tea to stop her from shaking with worry. 

Now she understood why Gilbert hadn’t answered any of her texts and calls about coming home; he was fast asleep in the bathtub with Puck on his chest, somewhat reminiscent of that first time after Gilbert’s wisdom teeth surgery. Puck woke up and brightened once he noticed her, stretching and hopping out of the tub to brush against her legs. He seemed much healthier than Gilbert had described, and Anne sighed loudly in relief. As she scratched Puck’s favorite spot on his chin, Anne took in the blankets, water bowl, cat litter, stack of textbooks, and snack wrappers that were littered around the bathroom. It dawned on her that Gilbert had spent every waking moment with Puck.

A lump formed in her throat. 

Gilbert stirred awake at that moment and blinked up at her. “Anne…? What time is it? I didn’t think you’d be home today—” 

Anne dropped to her knees at the side of the tub and threw her arms around his neck, kissing the daylights out of him. He barely had time to sit up and kiss back before she was kissing every inch of his face, cheeks, forehead, nose, wherever she could reach. She didn’t realize she was crying until she pulled back and saw traces of her own tears on his skin.

“You did all of this?”

He seemed dazed, whether from still waking up or as a result of her affection. “Hm?” 

“You really stayed with him the whole time?” 

“Yeah, of course I did,” He replied somewhat confused, as though him doing so would be the most obvious thing in the world. 

“Gilbert,” Anne sighed, scooping up Puck to cradle him with one arm and keeping her other hand firmly entwined with her boyfriend’s. Her tone was heavy with sincerity as she said, “This is the most selfless, compassionate, _attractive_ thing you have ever done.”

Used to her hyperbole, Gilbert squeezed her hand and said, “I was happy to do it, Anne. I wasn’t going to let anything happen to him while—wait, did you say attractive? I feel like I’ve definitely done more attractive things.”

“Nope, none so much as this,” Anne laughed, depositing Puck onto Gilbert’s lap so she could kiss him again. She loved him, she loved his heart, and she loved the way that his solicitous nature extended to everything placed in his care, her cat included. “Thank you for taking such good care of our boy.”

Gilbert’s entire chest flooded with warmth and he turned bright red at the implication of her last sentence, smiling dopily until Puck dug his nails through his pajama pants and pierced his skin. Gilbert nearly yelped in pain, rubbing his hands up and down his thighs. 

“Yep, looks like he’s definitely feeling better.”

That weekend seemed to be the final threshold that Gilbert and the cat needed to cross. Gilbert knew they would probably never be the best of friends, but he no longer had to question where he stood with Puck; the cat now voluntarily sat on his lap, greeted him at the door, and on the rare occasion, slept on _his_ legs instead of Anne’s. 

Thank goodness too, because not long after that, Anne and Gilbert were signing a lease on a new place together. Gilbert had been thrilled to get out of his previous living arrangements to move in with her, and was only a little gobsmacked when she revealed they’d have to find a new place since her current apartment did not actually allow pets (“ _how_ have you successfully hidden a cat from your landlord this whole time?!”). They quickly found a tiny house that would work just fine for them, and moved in with little fanfare. 

About a week after they moved in, Gilbert had finished a late shift at the hospital and pulled into their driveway, only to be met with the sight of Anne sitting on their porch steps in her pajamas. He hopped out of his car, instantly concerned about why she would be outside at this hour, but she simply held a finger to her lips and beckoned him over. 

He crouched down next to her and flipped on his phone’s light to reveal a tiny orange kitten, no bigger than his fist, tucked comfortably in Anne’s arms. It trembled slightly in the chill of the air, looking up at Gilbert to squeak at him before burying its face back against Anne’s chest. 

“I heard it crying under the house as I was getting ready for bed,” Anne explained quietly. “I’ve been out here trying to coax it out. Poor thing must be on its own.” 

Gilbert reached forward to tentatively stroke the kitten’s head, relieved when it started to purr. Anne handed it to him, and he held it gently in the crook of his elbow. 

“Hey little one,” he murmured. “What are you doing out here all by yourself, huh?”

He looked up at Anne then, and he could already see the idea forming on her face. She smiled very sweetly at him, the excitement growing in her eyes by the second. 

“Gilbert.”

“...Anne.” 

“ _Gilbert._ ”

He sighed, and glanced over her head at the house. In the window, watching them very intently, sat Puck, his face practically pressed against the glass to get a better look at the tiny animal that his humans were fussing over. Gilbert almost laughed at the sight, even if he did feel a little sorry for him. It wouldn’t be easy for Puck to watch Anne dote on another creature, but at least he had an ally in Gilbert. 

He stared at Puck for a beat, then down at the kitten, then back up at Anne’s hopeful face. 

“Okay. But I get to name this one.” 

**Author's Note:**

> This has been sitting in my drafts, 95% complete, since MAY when I wrote it after going through a similar health scare with my cat. The majority of it was written as I hunkered down in the bathroom with her, helping her stay hydrated and letting her sleep on me for as long as she wanted to, even after my legs fell asleep. I took her to the vet only to find out that she was totally fine, just passing something, and then I paid a bill almost as much as my monthly rent. Lmao. Worth it though, because I love her very much, even when she brings lizards into the house. This one's dedicated to you, Luna Bug <3


End file.
